know, but even then I expressed some reservations about getting involved.”
“You did,” Sabatini admitted. “But we decided to go ahead anyway. If you remember, we weighed up all the issues and concluded that the benefits outweighed the risks.”
“Yes. I remember.” Beltrane often wondered where the old man kept all his memories. Always on call, always right. Remember what is said and what is done, Sabatini had told him many years ago. What is said and what happens in the past dictates the future and where we are now. You need to remember who was involved, because there will be times when the past must catch with people. And those people must take the responsibilities that are due.
Rico had died because of that, Beltrane thought. For what had happened in the past.
“But we were told that the issue with Doyle wouldn’t surface,” Beltrane persisted.
“Yes.”
“And, at that time, it was also stated - quite clearly - that Christie’s involvement would not be a problem.”
“I remember, Franco. But it is under control.”
“Christie has to be killed. Before he talks.”
“I know.” Did this boy think he was incapable of seeing all this?
“What are we going to do about it, then?”
“You are not listening to me, Franco. I said that it is under control ..”
“What do you mean ...”
“... and ... it is under control. The Lady will fix it for us.”
“Are you sure she can handle this?”
“Yes. She has started already.” Sabatini looked into the younger man’s eyes and Beltrane knew that there was no more to be said on the issue. “Now, finish up your beer. It is almost midnight. We’ll go and lose some money.”
Beltrane looked at the gold watch on his wrist.
“Perhaps that blonde will be there tonight.”
Beltrane looked at the old man and smiled and drank the last of his beer.
*******
“No, no, no! Not like that!”
“How then?”
“Lift your leg.”
“Like this?”
“Higher.”
“Okay?”
“Fine. Stick your bum out a bit more. More. Fine.”
“This is ...”
“Be quiet. Now pull your pants down. Slowly!”
She did as she was told and the flash went off. And again. Again.
“Slowly, slowly. Hold it there!”
She stood still, holding the pose, legs bent at the knees, her backside kicked out and the top part of body leaning forward, looking ahead, profile, her panties down at mid-thigh, pulled taut across her legs, her right hand perched on the thrust-out and naked buttocks.
“Look over your shoulder. To me. Fine, fine. Open your mouth a little. Little more. Lick those lips. Fine. At me. Straight into the camera. Smile. Not that big. Sultry smile. Wait. Don’t move. Do not move.”
Robert Casey stepped quickly from behind the camera that sat on the tripod and, picking up the smaller camera that sat on the nearby table, walked closer to the model and brought the camera up to his eye. He stood in close to her, framing her head and shoulders in the viewfinder, focusing on her long black eyelashes and then firing the button. The flash burst to his right, and again, closer. Her face filled the viewfinder, again and again, pulling back and bending at the knees, shooting up, careful to make sure that the backdrop, though out of focus, didn’t cause any awkward shapes.
“Look over my right shoulder. Good, good.”
Moving round her now, still firing, allowing her breasts to come into the frame. They were magnificent breasts, he thought quickly, even in a bra.
“Okay, and look down at me now, straight into the camera. And lick your lips and .... great!”
He stopped and stood up straight. He leant forward and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Rest for a few minutes,” he said. “I need to change the card.”
She straightened up herself and pulled up her panties, covering her backside again.
“Got a drink?” she asked.
“There’s some in the fridge,” he answered, without looking at her. “Some Coke, orange juice, mineral water. Top shelf.” He unscrewed the Nikon from the tripod and took it, together with the smaller Pentax that now hung around his neck, to the a table set against the back wall of the studio. He half-sat on the table and took the digital cards from both cameras, slipping them into small plastic bags which were marked to indicate they held used cards. Casey still used film; he still had a traditional streak for quality that was required by the picture libraries and the magazine printers. But for jobs like this, the high-end digitals were more than adequate.
Casey’s grey hair was cut short and brushed back off his face. The colour of his hair was the first thing that most people noticed and they invariably dismissed him as an older man. Casey had regarded age as relative ever since he turned 50, so how people classified or compared him didn’t worry him at all. His hair had been grey since he was forty and he regarded it as an asset in his line of work. Models - especially those who posed with little or no clothing - were often suspicious of the younger photographer. They saw him as the worker in one respect, but there was always the lingering doubt that the only reason he wanted to get their pants off was to get into them. It was remarkable how many successful glamour photographers were overweight or very old or had some image that models felt safer with. The grey hair worked that way. Not that it was a problem - he’d only ever fell for three of his models and had affairs with two of them. And he was still married to the last one. He had to admit, though, that the fatherly image was an advantage. When his clients were always looking for the new face and the new body, his ability to make models feel at home - and to feel at home with their clothes off - was a real plus. He had to make the most of that advantage to keep the dollars rolling in.
Casey’s beard was also grey, framing a face that had a habit of bursting into laughter at the slightest pretence. His eyes were large and bright and blue. He wore a blue denim shirt over blue jeans. He was shoeless, having kicked the white sneakers into a corner of the studio only minutes after they’d started their session.
“Any gin?” she asked.
“Later.”
Casey watched her walk to the far corner of the studio where the fridge sat. She was, he thought, quite a magnificent creature. She wore black lingerie - bra, panties and suspender belt and stockings -
